


Babysitter

by gunmetal_ring



Series: Camp [3]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:14:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28112988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gunmetal_ring/pseuds/gunmetal_ring
Summary: "You want me to babysit your boy?"Daryl meets Henry while Carol takes him to Hilltop. (Season 9, episode 7: "Stradivarius")
Series: Camp [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2058195
Kudos: 6





	Babysitter

Daryl's walking back to camp with firewood in tow when he hears horses whinnying and a familiar voice just around the corner.

He stops in the middle of the clearing, and doesn't miss the look of alarm on the kid's face - clearly, he had no idea they were stopping by.

But Carol offers him a ride, and he just smiles.

It's good to see her again.

\--

Carol and Henry follow him into camp, and he hears her warn Henry about the traps he's laid nearby.

Which means the kid doesn't pay attention to his surroundings, and Carol's not confident that he can protect himself.

This doesn't bode well.

Daryl dumps the logs next to the fire unceremoniously and takes off his jacket, tossing it down to the side. He leans down to the river and washes off his hands.

He can practically hear the frown on Carol's face when she says, "You didn't fix the boat since last time?"

As if he has nothing better to do.

Dog comes up behind him with half a walker hand, and Daryl wipes his hands on a ratty towel.

Carol keeps prodding. "When's the last time you ate?"

He's not her child - she doesn't have to protect him the way she obviously has to protect her kid, and judging by the look on his face he needs a lot of protection.

Daryl tosses the walker hand into the fire, and says, "Dog ate yesterday," hoping she'll back off.

He should have known better, though, because all that does is make her more irritated.

\--

Carol's trailing after Daryl while he checks the snares, and he spots a snake slithering up a tree. It'll make a good addition later.

He cuts off the head and drops it in his pocket for later, and kills the walker a few feet away, scanning the ground for any more tracks.

Carol asks, "You're just gonna leave him there?"

He shrugs, not really paying attention. "Yeah, keeps the animals away."

He can hear the concern in her voice when she says, "You've been out here longer than I thought you'd be."

He hates small talk, but it looks like that's the way she handles things now. Queen Carol doesn't have the luxury of getting straight to the point.

She adds, "Longer than you said you'd be," and he knows that's her way of saying she misses him.

He ducks into the forest and says, "Yeah. I like it. It's quiet."

He knows she can hear the message - _don't have to deal with bullshit_ \- and she doesn't say anything to that.

He sees a rabbit caught in his snare, and when she still doesn't speak, he feels a prickle of irritation. She can try to sidestep all she wants, but there's a reason why she decided to just drop in with her kid and make nice. There's a reason she's got her Queen Carol mask on right now.

Two can play at that game. "How's the king?"

There's no way she misses his bored tone, but she chooses to ignore it. "He's having a hard time letting go."

Daryl grunts, not really paying attention, and pulls the rabbit free.

"I'm taking Henry to the Hilltop. He wants to apprentice at the smithy."

She's still not being straight with him, and he's over it. "Well, I appreciate your visit. Seem real good." He resets the trap and walks out, standing right in front of her. "You gonna tell me why you're really here?"

"I want you to come with us."

He waits for the rest of the story, and she relents. "I can't stay at Hilltop. We've got problems of our own at the Kingdom, and I'd just feel really a lot better if you were there with him."

There it is.

"You want me to babysit your boy?"

The disbelief in his voice must have shamed her a little, because she says, "It's not like that," all quiet and apologetic.

He's not buying it. "How is it?"

"Henry's an idealist, just like Ezekiel. I love that about him. I do. It's important. But it can be dangerous too."

Yeah, no shit it's dangerous. But no way in hell is Daryl picking up the slack for Carol's husband. She knew what she was getting into when she married the King - she knew what kind of person he was, and she chose him to be Henry's dad. 

He's a fighter - Daryl saw him when they fought the Saviors. The King knows what he's doing with his sword. He'd learned how to protect himself and his people, at some point or another.

But that's fallen by the wayside in the relative peace they've had for the last couple of years. He's seen how village-like all the communities have become, and with no looming threat that means that survival has taken a back seat to regular, everyday life. And the King chose _that_ as his priority, which means there's a whole generation of kids growing up with a safety net.

Daryl knows why she married him. He knows why she stays with him. She thinks he doesn't, but he does. She gets something from him - from the Kingdom - that she can't get anywhere else. But she made her choice, and it's not on Daryl to fill the void the King leaves.

So his answer is easy. He doesn't have to think about it. "Nah. He's just gonna have to learn, just like everybody else."

Daryl and Carol didn't have the luxury of backup. Of protection. They didn't have the luxury of dreaming and hoping and wishing and wanting. They had to learn, all by themselves. It's why Daryl is who he is now. He has the skills to survive because if he didn't, that was it. He and his people were dead. And Carol knows that.

But he reminds her anyway. "Just like you and I did."

\--

Daryl's busy making stew, and Dog drops off a half-chewed walker foot. He's good like that; always letting him know how far away the enemy is. How dangerous they might be. If they're still intact and ready to lunge or if they're decomposed and shuffling.

Henry can't see that, though - all he can see is what's right in front of him, presented gift-wrapped on a silver platter.

"Your dog always do that?"

Daryl just barely holds back a scoff. What the hell is this kid's problem?

That's a stupid question. He _knows_ what this kid's problem is. He's coddled. Soft. Naive. Daryl doesn't know much about Henry's life before Carol adopted him, but even if he _had_ struggled to survive at some point, he's clearly forgotten how. He can't understand life outside sturdy walls and brick buildings and loyal servants ready to lay down their lives for him.

Daryl won't blame Carol for it; she's got every reason to shield him from the world. She's lost three of her babies already, and she'll do whatever it takes to make sure Henry doesn't end up the same way.

But the King doesn't have any excuse, as far as Daryl's aware. He's corny as hell, and he's got his head in the clouds, and he puts on a show just so his people feel like they can blindly follow him without consequence. Like they can rely on someone else to make all the decisions for them, and everything will turn out just fine.

And Daryl's sure as hell not going to take any shit from some kid who doesn't want to think for himself and expects everyone around him to take the knee and jump in front of the teeth for him. Fuck that. He wouldn't do it before and he'll never do it, never, not for anyone. Not even for Carol.

So Daryl just sneers, and says, "Well, he's got his reasons," and dumps the foot in the fire, knowing that Henry's sitting downwind and he'll get a noseful.

And for added measure, he makes a big show of skinning the snake, pulling it apart and watching Henry's face grow more and more disgusted by the second. No porkchops for him, butchered at the other end of town to protect his delicate sensibilities. This is life outside the walls. This is self-sufficiency. Real life isn't always pretty.

Carol puts on her Queen Carol mask and says, "I'm impressed. This is really nice, you cooking for us. You're good at this."

She's laying it on thick, really trying to curry favor. Daryl hates this mask. It's part of why he refuses to live at the Kingdom with her; it drives him _crazy_ to watch her join in on the act. Trying to live the fairy tale life that she wanted even before the world ended. She _knows_ better than that, she _knows_ it's not real.

He gets why Carol wants that, though. She needs hope. She needs a future she can really _see_. Something to hold on to. Something to rely on. She can't live battle-to-battle, hand-to-mouth, one-day-at-a-time anymore. It's too bleak. She deserves a safe, comfortable life after everything she's endured, especially because she hasn't forgotten - and probably never _will_ forget - how to survive. 

He watched her try to keep Henry at arm's length as a kid, but he wormed his way into her heart, and that's when she turned. That's when she decided enough was enough, and so she fell in with the King, for the safety and the comfort as much as it was for the extra security for Henry.

Daryl thinks that's the extent of it, thought. He's seen them together, snippets here and there, listened to her talk about him. He doesn't hear the love. The real, deep _love_ he knows she can feel, and he wonders if she knows it, too. 

But that's a thought for another day.

But while he's trying to hide his distaste for her Queen Carol mask, Daryl realizes why she put it on - this kid has no idea why they're visiting, and she's trying to placate him so that Henry's still in the dark.

Nope. Fuck that. She can play Henry and the King and her citizens all she wants, but Daryl's not going to be some pawn in her game.

So he says, "I'm sure there's people at Hilltop who know how to cook," and yanks the rest of the skin off, wrapping it around his hand and practically _hearing_ the wheels turn in the kid's head.

He catches a glimpse of Carol's face as gets up to clean off his hands, and she's just barely covering up her irritation.

Good.

He listens to them bicker from afar, and he feels a sick sense of vindication when he hears Henry talk shit on him. But he's quickly veering into that tone Daryl knows all too well - disrespectful and willing to hurt, just to prove a point.

As annoyed as Daryl is with Carol, he's not about to stand around and let her kid dig at her until she bends, so he interrupts and announces dinner will be ready soon.

He ignores the resentment practically _vibrating_ from the kid, and Carol says, "Well, good! That's just enough time."

Daryl wrinkles his face in confusion. "Time for what?"

\--

It's not as bad as he thought it would be.

Daryl likes this time of day - the sun setting quickly, the spray of blues and greens and grays and reds behind the black outlines of the trees, the sounds of wildlife coming alive. It's peaceful. Or it was, until the dead started walking.

But he's got Dog for that now. Couldn't have made it this long on his own without him.

He closes his eyes while he rests his forehead against Carol's stomach, running his hand through Dog's fur, and he's surprised that he feels so at home like this.

Dog barks, and he peeks around Carol to see what's going on, but it seems like Dog was just talking to the bugs.

He returns his face to Carol's belly, and breathes her in. He can smell her - warm and something suspiciously close to home, but it doesn't last long. She pulls away, tugging and tousling his hair.

He glances up at her, trying to find a way to address the elephant in the room, and chews on his lips while he searches for the words.

She pays him no mind, instead just pulling on a lock of his hair, and he winces when she yanks it too tight.

He can feel her sawing at it, an odd sensation - he's half-expecting to end up bald, but he knows she takes enough pride in her work that she wouldn't let him leave with a two-bit haircut.

She's eye-level with him now, looking at him but not _seeing_ him, just focusing on how his hair falls around his face. She's giving him a chance.

He hesitates, though - he's more open with her than he is with anyone, than he's ever _been_ with anyone, but that doesn't mean it's easy for him to talk about himself. She won't judge him, or mock him, or make him regret being vulnerable, but he's still not used to it after decades of closing himself off.

He tries, though. For her. And she knows that.

She's fiddling with his hair when he finally starts to talk.

"Look, I know you think I'm still lookin' for him."

She keeps running her fingers through his hair as he talks, and it's nice. He closes his eyes and leans into it.

It makes it easier, somehow.

He looks back at her, and she quietly asks, "Are you?"

He watches her lean down, and when she's eye-level again he can't hold it back. The regret, the grief, the frustration - how many people will he lose to the forest? It's supposed to be _his_ home, _his_ turf. Why do they disappear on him? Why do his tracking skills fail him when he needs them most?

"I never found the body." A lump forms in his throat, and he forces past it. "Ever."

He can feel the tell-tale prickling around his eyes, and he redirects to less emotional ground.

"After a while, it just got easier to stay out here."

She hasn't stopped playing with his hair this whole time, and he appreciates it. It's a good distraction. It's nice to feel something... nice.

She says, "You have to let that go." A short quiet sentence, but it's full of understanding, encouragement. A hint of shared grief.

She brushes more hair off his face, and when he realizes that this is the first time someone's touched him in ages, _really_ touched him, he reflexively wrinkles his nose. It's a small shock to his system, even around her.

She smiles at him, that warm, sweet, _Carol_ smile he's come to appreciate, and says, "There, that's better."

The hairs on the back of his neck stand up, telling him that the kid's watching, and when he looks over he sees something play across his face that he can't exactly read.

But Carol's demeanor changes, and with that, the moment's gone.

"C'mon," he says quietly. "Dinner's ready."

\--

As they eat, he's actually enjoying the quiet - feels almost like companionship. Almost.

But then the kid opens his mouth, and asks, "How'd you get the scar, anyway?"

Daryl can hear the genuine curiosity in his voice, but that doesn't mean he's about to spill his life story to a complete stranger just because he's nosy. He shoots a look at Carol, and he sees an apology there, but that's not good enough. So he just wolfs down the rest of his meal and busies himself looking around for Dog, and doesn't bother to hide his irritation.

\--

Nighttime falls, and he's busy securing the perimeter of the camp when he hears clumsy footsteps nearby. He takes cover, and sees that it's the kid, waving around his flashlight like he's trying to attract all the walkers he can find.

And he does - what a surprise.

The kid actually _jumps back_ , and Daryl's dismayed to be proven right - the kid didn't even reach for the stick he's holding, let alone carrying an actual weapon.

So Daryl jumps out behind his tree and smacks his arm down to kill the flashlight, and hisses, "You followin' me?"

The kid just looks at him, dumbfounded, and asks, "What're you doing out here?"

Daryl stares at him - what does he _think_ he's doing out here? - and tells him, "Turn it off. Go back to camp."

He stabs the walker and walks off, not bothering to watch the kid head back.

But then he hears Dog barking, which means there's a walker problem, but Dog doesn't come running, which means trouble, and once Daryl finally finds him, he's hit with a bolt of fear when he sees Dog tied up in the trap.

Dammit.

Turns out the kid _did_ follow him, but Daryl's too busy to give a shit right now. He shoots one of the walkers and shoves the crossbow at Henry, and orders him to stay while he untangles Dog.

Daryl creeps up to him, not willing to risk further attention from the walkers if he doesn't have to, and tries to soothe Dog to quiet him, whispering, “Shh, come on, I gotcha, I gotcha pup, I gotcha,” over and over again, reaching for ropes around Dog’s neck

Dog stops barking, but stops whining, and breaks Daryl's heart just a little, and as he's untying him he suddenly loses his balance and drops the knife just out of reach.

Henry comes running, but no fucking way is Daryl dealing with him right now. "Stay back!"

He tries reaching for his knife, but he can't get the leverage, so he pulls another off his belt and throws it at one of the walkers. It hits, and he gets one ankle back, which is all he needs to break free.

He kills another two walkers almost on reflex, and returns back to Dog, trying to loosen the ropes as quickly as he can.

Just as he gets it, he hears a walker right on top of him, and Henry's holding it back with his stick but it's about to fall and Daryl kills it.

It's then that he notices that Henry's stuck in one of the traps, and he knows firsthand just how fucked up the kid's leg must be, and the kid has the nerve to _mouth off_ at him.

Daryl's harsh, but his reaction to fear has always been anger - fear is a weakness, and once someone sees fear they can exploit it. Henry's probably not skilled enough for that, wouldn't know how to pinpoint Daryl's well enough to force him into anything, but he's not about to soften himself just for the kid's ego.

\--

Daryl's changing his bloodied shirt back at the campsite, and he could _hear_ how heavy Henry's limp was. He feels a little guilty - the kid's annoying, but he was trying to help, and Daryl's big enough to admit that he probably would have been in bad shape if Henry didn't step in when he did.

And all he got for his trouble was a sliced ankle and a scolding.

Daryl picks up a jar of cream and tosses it to Henry. "Use that. It's good for the infection."

He sits down next to him in front of the fire, and plays with Dog for a moment to put off having to apologize.

But he doesn't want the kid to go to bed like this, tense and angry and judging Carol for trying to do right by him.

So he musters up the courage, and says, "The dog checks the traps. Lets me know if I have a walker problem." He ruffles Dog's fur, and adds, "Never got stuck before, though."

It's not exactly what he wanted to say, and the kid doesn't know him well enough to read between the lines.

And he should know that he did the right thing. He stepped up and tried to help, tried to fight, and even if it went sideways he made the effort to protect someone _else_. Someone he clearly doesn't care for.

That's something important. That's Carol. And probably a little bit of the King. And now that's Henry, too.

So Daryl steels himself, takes a breath, and looks him right in the eye. "Anyway... thank you for your help."

It's awkward, and the kid doesn't really know how to react, but at least Daryl _said_ something.

And then Henry surprises him, and says, "Thanks. For, uh... saving me."

He glances back at his tent, and asks, "Can you not tell my mom about that, though?"

Daryl's has a sneaking suspicion that Carol already knows somehow, or at the very least will know tomorrow - even if Henry wasn't limping, she can read Daryl like a book - but he just nods anyway, and throws a stick for Dog to chew on.

Henry rolls his ankle around, and it occurs to Daryl that Henry might be worried about Carol's safety the next time she visits. It's one thing to see traps laid among the animal skins and draw conclusions, but it's another thing entirely to _feel_ just how deadly they can be, and Daryl suddenly feels the need to explain himself.

"You know, the traps - they're not for animals. That's... that's no way to die, slow and painful like that." Henry doesn't say anything, so Daryl adds, "I just want to keep the walkers out. But there seems to be more and more of 'em lately."

A beat passes, and Henry surprises him again. "You know, my mom - she says you're her best friend. The one who's always had her back, no matter what."

Daryl knows that, has shown Carol time and again just how much he cares for her, and she's never made it a secret how grateful she is for their friendship, but it's still nice to hear.

And Henry adds, "She misses you. She worries about you. You can - you can see that, right?"

Daryl _can_ see that. Of course he can. He misses her too. But he's not about to shove himself into a world he doesn't like, shape himself into a model citizen and put himself on a platter for everyone else's comfort. "Well, she knows where I'm at. She knows how to find me."

"She shouldn't have to."

This kid is just full of surprises.

Yeah, she shouldn't have to. But he's not about to bend over backwards for her when all he'll get in return is a visit every once in a while plus some kid mouthing off at him whenever Daryl tries to do what's been asked of him.

"Is that what you want? Me lookin' over your shoulder all the time?"

Henry looks back over at him, and simply says, "It isn't just about me."

Yeah. It's not.

\--

The next morning, Daryl's busy packing up while Henry limps around, and Carol crawls out of the tent.

"Hey."

"Hey!"

Maybe he's a little overeager, but he's in a good mood. Knowing that he's going to make her happy - make her proud of him - makes him happy, too.

"How'd you sleep?"

She gives him a funny look. "Good. You?"

"Good. Real good."

He didn't actually get much sleep - he'd stayed up for a little while longer after Henry went to bed, thinking about their conversation. And given that Carol didn't comment on Henry's limp, he's pretty sure she knows something about the walker fight.

But either way, Henry's right.

She shouldn't _have_ to find him. She deserves peace of mind, wherever she can get it. He's not helping anyone by living like a hermit out here, and he can do so much more if he moves back into town. Not just for her, not just for Henry, but for the whole community. For his people. For himself, too.

Rick's gone. He's accepted it. He's still got a faint - _very_ faint - hope that one day he'll turn up, and they can either give him a real funeral or welcome him back with open arms, but he can't live on that anymore. It's not real.

Oceanside is real. Alexandria is real. Hilltop and the Kingdom are real. Carol is real.

He's always wanted the best for her, more than anything, and he's decided that watching over the kid doesn't have to be about babysitting. It can be about learning how to fight in his spare time. Learning how to contribute to a community and putting down the silver spoon. Daryl can make sure he knows how to survive. And that's what's best for Carol.

He can tell that she knows he's changed his mind, but he feels the need to say it out loud anyway, just in case.

"Be ready to go in about ten minutes."

Her smile - the _real_ Carol smile, not the Queen's smile - is all he needs to see.


End file.
